Little One
by WhenTheSkyeQuakes
Summary: "She didn't want him. She really didn't. He was what Natasha and Steve had wanted - not the Black Widow. The little one deserved better than this hollowed out shell of a mother with nothing to offer. He was better off with another family, with two parents instead of a single broken assassin. But the walls were gone, washed away by the flood of love as she held her son in her arms."
1. Little One

It was over.

All of the life she had built, the walls that surrounded her heart. Natasha Romanoff, hardened spy with an inhuman amount of red in her ledger, was broken.

Her body was glistening with the sheen of sweat, every nerve in her body on fire. It was the most painful thing she had ever felt, well past a bullet to the shoulder. But then with a final burst of fiery pain it lessened dramatically. She lay there in the bed in sweet relief, for once ignoring her surroundings. A sharp cry rose up, but she pushed down the emotions that rose with it. And after what felt like hours later a cloth bundle was pressed into her exhausted arms against her will.

She didn't want him. She really didn't. He was what Natasha and Steve had wanted - not the Black Widow. The little baby deserved better than this hollowed out shell of a mother with nothing to offer. He was better off with another family, with two parents instead of a single broken assassin. With someone who would care for him, give him what he deserved.

But the walls were gone, washed away by the flood of love as she was handed her baby boy.

He was so tiny, though it could be that the only experience she had was with Barton's children. His little eyelids were shut tightly but she could see the beginning of what would one day be long eyelashes. His chubby little cheeks were flushed red, but he was silent, rather surprisingly.

Her boy was all wrapped up in a little cloth that held his little arms from wiggling. Upon pulling off the little cap someone had placed on him during the night, she was greeted by a shock of damp blond hair. A tired smile lit up her face as she carefully ran her fingers through it. _Just like his father._

"Hello, little one," she whispered, pulling him closer to her tired face. He stirred for a moment, and Natasha fleetingly worried that she had done something wrong. And then his tiny lids fluttered open, eyes settling on his mother's face.

Her heart skipped a beat as the eyes of her husband stared back at her. Bright blue eyes, hypnotized by her green irises. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes at the old pain, but she suppressed it.

The Black Widow doesn't cry. Never show vulnerability. But caressing her son so close, she realized that no one could take him away from her, not even her own conscious. Not the fearless monster she had been raised to be since she was a girl.

He blinked twice, mouth opening slightly before his tiny lungs began to scream. Natasha jumped, eyes torn from the formerly angelic face to search for help. A leftover nurse, seeing her distress, hurried over with a bottle.

Early on, she had told the nurses she wasn't interested in 'naturally' feeding. If she was giving him away, they wouldn't allow it. Now he wasn't going anywhere, but still missions wouldn't allow. So rather awkwardly, the younger woman instructed the assassin on how to tip the tiny container just right. She caught on fast and was alone in under six minutes, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath and sip of formula.

Her little boy fell asleep before he finished. She gently pulled the rubber nipple from between his lips and shifted him into the crook of her arm. He stayed still, breathing softly, as she returned the little blue cap to his head.

Natasha watched him sleep peacefully with a ghost of a smile on her face before her own exhaustion began to take over. Her lips drifted down, and she planted a light kiss to his forehead. Laying back, she finally let the darkness overtake her, little one in hand.

The nurse attempted to take him when she saw the scene (apparently it's not all that safe to sleep with a newborn), but one glare from the feared spy left them in peace. Her child wasn't a possession; he was a human being who was meant to be next to her in the first precious hours of his life. He wouldn't be taken from his mother to be placed in a glass box amongst strangers. No, not after her husband had already been taken from her. Natasha wouldn't leave another one she loved.

In the morning after a long night's rest, she was presented with a birth certificate. Without any hesitation she scribbled down _Steven Barton Rogers_. It was the least she could do after not being strong enough to save her husband, after all. Barton was for her best friend whom had been beside her before all of this madness, no matter what. Clint would object, but he wasn't here to complain as of currently.

Speaking of which...

Natasha winced inwardly at how mad the archer was going to be. Her hand scrabbled for her cellphone on the side table, fingers curling around the casing. His number was clicked and in mere seconds he had picked up.

"Nat? Where have you been? Lila was waiting up for you all night!"

She winced; her conscience felt horrible as of right now. The family had no idea of her pregnancy. Natasha had finally agreed to meet them after almost a year, the guilt beginning to subside.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. The Black Widow _stuttered_. ( _You're rubbing off on me already, little one)._ "It's . . . Well, complicated."

Worry crept into her friend's voice. "You alright?"

"It'd be easier to explain on a Skype," she whispered, pulling the sleeping infant closer. He snuggled into the new position sleepily.

Clint sounded exhausted as the voices of small, excited children crept through the ear piece. "Alright. The whole fam's excited, if that's alright,"

She nodded, pursing her lips. "That's fine. You guys...I owe it to you,"

"You don't owe us anything, Natasha. I know how hard it's been since the war..." He trailed off as a note of bitterness hung in the air. "...and Steve,"

Natasha was silent for a few moments, Clint respecting it. She would never really get over what the press called The Modern Civil War. None of them would. It had torn apart so many lives and left no room for repair, the government eventually declaring war on any superpowered individuals. Cap and Hawkeye had dared to separate, but Natasha had refused. She had enough red in her ledger as it was. The war cost her so much more than that color - it cost the Avenger her husband.

"We can't change it, Clint," she bit out sharply, but the archer could still see beyond her tone. "It happened whether we like it or not. We just need to pick up what we can and move on,"

"I know," he responded, softness in his tone. "But sometimes, I'm not sure if that's the right thing,"

Natasha couldn't deal with this right now. Eventually, yes. But right now Clint needed to know about her son and why she had cut off connection with him. This wasn't the time to dwell on what had happened, rather to look towards the future.

"I'll Skype you," she changed the topic, rearranging herself in bed. She winced at the soreness in her legs and lower half. "Are the kids up for it?"

"For Auntie Nat?" She caught the smile in his voice. "Always,"

She smiled and gently clicked off the phone, opening the Skype app instead. Within minutes the connection was completed and she smiled at the excited young faces of the Barton children. Her arms arranged it so that the view was only on her face, excluding the baby.

"Hey, guys! You've all grown so big!" Natasha marveled at them, eyes alight with a joy she hadn't felt in so long. "Giving your old man a run for his money, I see,"

"I'm not old!" Clint protested from off screen. The kids just laughed, and Lila spoke up first.

"Where have you been? I miss you,"

Natasha smirked, eyes twinkling. Clint seemed to catch on to the small beat of silence, and jumped into the view of the computer's camera.

"What the heck are you doing in a hospital?" He yelped, eyes darting around her surroundings.

Natasha swiveled the camera so that Steven's sleeping form came into view. "Say hello to Steven Barton Rogers,"

Clint's eye virtually popped out of his skull. For perhaps the first time in her life, Natasha had rendered the archer speechless. Regardless, as the kids squealed and cooed over the little one's face, Clint was running up the stairs. He returned moments later with Laura, whom looked half-asleep. Finally, her eyes registered the image and her face lit up.

"Oh, Natasha he's beautiful!" She whispered, eyes stuck to the screen.

"And unexpected!" Clint chirped, still in awe. "How could you not tell us?"

"I was scared," Natasha stated bluntly. Clint's eyes were torn from the baby to look at her.

"Why?" He asked, confusion evident on his face. The question hung in the air, the children quieting as if sensing the disturbance. "You know, even after everything, that we wouldn't have turned you away."

Natasha bit her lip and turned to look out the window of the hospital room. The baby moved quietly, eyes opening softly. "I couldn't put it on you. I couldn't hurt you,"

"You know you never could." Clint objected softly.

She sighed, readjusting Steven as he began to fuss. "I shouldn't be able to have this, Clint. The baby wasn't supposed to survive the pregnancy. How could I show up, pregnant, excite the kids. And then, after everything, lose him?"

Laura herded said kids out, none objecting. He raked a hand through his hair tiredly, eyes watching his family exit. "You know that's not why, Tasha,"

She remained silent, staring into the bright blues of her infant's eyes.

"Look, I'm not going to push you. I know it's been a rough night, and this isn't going to help any. You'll talk when you're ready. You always have, and I doubt this is going to break the system. Now, where are you staying?"

Her tired green eyes finally raised to meet his. "Just outside Topeka,"

He nodded, standing. "You up for travel?"

Biting her lip again, she nodded softly. "I've been through worse,"

"That's not what I'm asking. Do you _want_ to travel?"

She nodded, shifting in the bed. "I can't stand hospitals. You know that,"

A grin lit up his face as he picked up a pair of car keys from the side of the computer. "I'll be there in a few hours. Just rest, get ready."

Tears were filling her eyes. What had she ever done to deserve his friendship? Even after a full year of silence he was caring for her as if nothing had ever happened.

"Clint," she whispered, running a hand through her matted hair. "Thank you,"

The spark was back in his eye, teasing as he pulled on a coat. "What else was I gonna do? Leave you out in the cold?"

* * *

 **Hi! I'm Kayla, since you probably haven't met me. This was a random little ficlet written in about an hour, and I don't quite know where it came from.**

 **This was my very first attempt at writing ️Avengers, so feedback is appreciated. And yes, this was set post-Civil War. I don't quite know why, it just worked its way in.**

 **Anyway, I'd love a review! It encourages me to write for different Fandoms ? See you all soon, hopefully! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Let Go

The door gave a whispering squeak on its hinges, turning open before closing equally quietly.

It was Natasha's only warning as she slowly sat up, recognizing the even, familiar tread of footprints. A small smile appeared on her face; even after all the months they'd been apart, she could never forget them.

It was later in the evening – a full twenty-four hours since little Steven had been born – when Clint stepped into her hospital room. His eyes were alight with mischief, glinting happily in the dim light.

She sighed, a tiny, knowing smirk replacing her smile. "You snuck in, didn't you?"

He shrugged, taking a few steps in. "Didn't want them to have to disturb you. Besides, I've been off duty too long. It felt nice."

"Only you would regard sneaking into a hospital as 'nice.'"

"I see your sarcasm is still intact," Clint grinned, pulling up a seat at her bedside. His eyes drifted to her infant, whom was awake and looking toward quietly him the best he could. "Hey, little guy. How're you doing?"

"Is that really your attempt at baby talk?"

"I'd like to see you try,"

Her green eyes rolled good-naturedly. This all felt so . . . normal. Even after almost a full year apart it was like nothing had changed, banter falling back into place on her tongue as it always had. It wasn't forced or heavy, just lighthearted like the siblings they had become to one another. It was natural.

Clint swallowed hard. "He's adorable, Nat. Looks just like Steve,"

Pain flashed across her features but it gone as quick as it had come. It had struck her from the first moment she saw him, and it still hurt just a little bit every time. "I know,"

"He's going to make him proud. I can tell."

She looked away, back to the closed window. The curtain just barely allowed the slightest sliver of light in, but it was enough to divert her attention to. "Please, not now, Clint,"

A sigh escaped him; he could see it wasn't healthy to just hold it all in. But she was a time bomb, opening when she was ready. Just not right now. Perhaps not for weeks, months even. But eventually.

"Alright," he nodded quietly, resigned. "But are you still up for moving?"

Natasha nodded likewise, lightly lifting her child. "Could you put him in the crib, please?"

Clint took the infant, cradling him expertly close to his chest. He seemed frantically lost for a moment at the lack of his mother, but he soon settled snugly into the archer's arms. A smile split his face as he looked up at Natasha.

"I never thought we'd be here. They said it was impossible." Clint breathed, gently rocking the boy.

Natasha smiled sadly. "Neither did I,"

Clint's smile fell as he realized what he was intruding on. This wasn't his place. This shouldn't be his moment. It was Steve's. It was her husbands place, something a father only gets to experience once. Yet the soldier would never get to enjoy it, to hold his son for the first time. To hold his wife's hand as she labored, to help her take care of the newborn, to drive her home. Nothing.

"God, I'm sorry," Clint muttered, his chest aching. "This is all my fault,"

Natasha stubbornly shook her head. "No. It's mine. I was stupid enough to believe in Stark,"

"You did what you felt was right," he swallowed tersely, still cuddling Steven close though his eyes stared off into blank space. "We all did."

"And yet who was right?" her voice came out in a whisper, fingers playing absently with the edge of the bleached hospital sheets before she somberly raised her eyes to his. "Nobody won this, Barton,"

He didn't reply for once, his resolve cracking. Instead, he lifted up the infant and placed him in the glass crib as the assassin had previously requested. The baby stirred for a few moments before bursting into a high pitched cry.

Natasha sighed quietly, blinking back her tears. She kicked off the sheets and tenderly swung her legs over the side of the bed. A hiss escaped her; this was hell. She was unable to move or defend herself, even care for her newborn.

Clint raked a hand through his hair. "Nat, you don't have to . . ."

A hand waved him off, and she shakily stood to her feet. Haltingly, she stumbled to Steven's side and held onto the edge of the crib for support. Clint rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, grabbing and unfolding a conveniently placed wheelchair from behind the bed.

He wheeled it over to her so the edge of the seat was pressing lightly against the back of her knees. "Come on, Nat. Suffering isn't going to get you anywhere."

"Fine," she muttered, giving into the strain on her body and collapsing into the chair. Her legs thanked her at once as Clint carefully placed her fussing son in her lap. His crying immediately ceased at the presence of her warm arms.

"You're spoiling him," Clint shook his head with a small smile.

Natasha smirked. "He's the first. It's his birthright,"

Clint held it in, seeing as Natasha hadn't noticed her wording. There wouldn't be another child; the only reason she had ever become pregnant in the first place was because of Steve's serum. And he was gone, washed away in the blood of war. This was her only chance to ever have a child of her own. And he silently promised himself he would do everything in his power to help raise the infant the infant as one of his own.

"We'd better get going," Natasha said quietly, stroking a hand over Steven's tiny head. "The nurse will be making her rounds soon,"

Clint complied, wheeling the chair towards the door. However, she stopped him, handing him an envelope with a few large bills tucked inside. He smiled and inwardly chuckled at her need to pay every little wrong. He placed it on the nightstand for the nurse to find.

Surprisingly, there was no one in the hallway so Clint took the liberty of snipping off the mother and child's security bracelets with a pair of abandoned scissors. From there the trio rode the elevator down, the lone doctor there to occupied in his tablet to question their motives.

It wasn't easy getting past the front desk without checking out or filling in forms, but Clint managed it and pushed them into the outside air. She was grateful; the last thing they needed was a curious receptionist.

Natasha breathed in deeply, the oxygen lacking the metallic components the hospital's had contained. Instead, the air felt naturally clean and left a warm blush over her cheeks. The sun set softly in an array of hues in the background, just over a clump of trees, and for a moment she felt right.

But the feeling was gone as quick as it had come. The abandonment left her feeling lost, spiraling for control in the jacked up life she led. Her heart ached at the thought of leaning on Clint for the needs of herself and her child. It wasn't right; she had abandoned him, but here he was picking up her shattered pieces and taking her home like nothing had ever happened.

Clint wanted to do this; didn't he? He didn't hate her, he felt the need to protect her like the sibling she was to him. Like the way he had picked her up after Budapest. Or the way she had picked him up after Sokovia. After Pietro.

Her thoughts were cut short as Clint pushed her up to an old ratty pick-up truck. The paint was a rusty red, but Natasha couldn't pick out where the original paint ended and the actual rust began. An eyebrow was raised in the archer's direction.

"You told me you were getting rid of this rat trap."

"And I told you I needed a way to lay low," Clint shrugged shamelessly, fishing a keyring from his pocket. "Besides, it has sentimental value." his thumb pressed the unlock button a few times, but nothing happened. His combat boot slammed into the side door, and finally a click was heard as only one headlight blinked in response.

"Mint condition," Natasha muttered, rolling her eyes as she she stood. Her body immediately protested with a sharp jab. She slumped forward lightly against the truck, clawing the handle open despite Clint's protests to let him help. She slid into the backseat with Steven still in hand.

Clint sighed at her stubbornness, shutting the door. Nothing had changed at all. "Alright then, be that way," he threw to the breeze, stepping into the driver's seat.

The following hours were punctuated by Steven's cries to be fed and small talk between the ex-SHIELD agents. Darkness fell completely about two hours into their journey, but Clint only stopped for a quick moment at an old, rundown shopping mart. He returned with a load of infant supplies, junk food and energy drinks.

Once the baby was fed, changed and swaddled in a new blanket, they were back on the road. The roads were far less crowded at this time of night, cutting at least two hours off their time. As a result, it was almost two in the morning when the beaten wheels turned down a dark – yet familiar – unpaved road.

A grin ghosted her tired face as Steven stayed silently sleeping in her arms. This was the closest she'd ever really felt to a home of her own. It warmed her inside at the sight of a dark figure dashing behind a curtain at the window. Seconds later as the pick-up slowed to a grinding halt, the front door was flung open and Laura came down the steps in a rush.

Natasha had just barely stepped out before the brunette's arms were around her and Steven all at once. Then she had pulled back, and her eyes landed on the baby.

"It's been forever," she whispered, giving her arm a small squeeze. "Here, you shouldn't have to carry him so soon after last night." Steven traded easily into her arms, blue eyes taking in as much as they could in their young state.

Clint came up behind the former assassin and, despite her protests, helped her inside. She was still rather wobbly, but the archer could tell her strength was rapidly returning,

At last, they were all inside. Though it was apparent that Laura would have liked to stay up and visit, she helped set up the spare room and pulled up the old 'C' shaped cushion her children had slept on as infants. It worked perfectly for Steven, whom for once didn't notice his mother's absence.

And before she knew it, soundly curled beneath the sheets of a room she had stayed in countless times, listening to her son's even breaths, Natasha was asleep.

* * *

Her eyelids fluttered open to thin slats of light filtering in from the curtains, golden hued and bright.

 _Like the color of his hair . . . he always loved mornings._

She turned over, raking her fingers through her own red waves. _No, Natalia. Don't do this to yourself. You have to be strong for him._

Gently, she reached out a hand and ran a finger along the curve of her son's jaw. He was so peaceful and quiet, and it even scared her a bit. From what she had heard, infants were not usually this calm.

But again, she reminded herself, it was most likely because of Erskine's formula running through his veins. She and Steve had contemplated it numerous times in the short month they had been expecting together. Of course, after his fall, she had never been able to talk to anyone else about it.

Steven curled slightly into her touch, little jaw moving up and down as if he were sucking on something. She laughed a bit; it was amazing to wake up to this little face that she could truly call her son.

His eyes opened to meet hers, unfocused and hazy yet still so reminiscent of his father's. It took a few moments, but finally he seemed to recognize her and gurgled a tiny bit. Yes, the serum seemed to be helping him along quite well.

"Good morning, little one," she cooed softly, carefully sliding a hand beneath his head and the other behind his rear. Gently she lifted him, trying to remember the steps she'd been taught by the nurse at the hospital. He seemed happy enough, not bursting into tears.

Carefully, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Natasha found with a note of joy that the pain had gone down a considerable amount from the day before, leaving her free to go about her business with a bearable amount of discomfort.

Steven was left in the bassinet Clint had wheeled in the night before while she dressed, only mildly crying. When she returned to pick him up, he came willingly. Baby in hand, she crossed to the door to be greeted by tiny voices.

"You knock, Lila,"

"No! You do it. She won't get mad at you."

"But you're younger-"

Natasha smiled as she pulled open the door. "What have I told you about spying?"

Lila let out a squeal and flung herself at the mother, wrapping her little arms around her frame. "Auntie Nat! You came!"

She laughed, ruffling her hair. "I told you I would," she beckoned for the oldest. "Now come here, Coop. Or are you too old to be hugged all of the sudden?"

He laughed, letting her pull him into a side embrace. "We missed you! And then Mom said you got here last night with the baby-"

"I'm here, okay?" she laughed. Cooper just hugged her again. "Now come on downstairs. I think Steven wants to meet you,"

"Alright!" Lila beamed, bouncing down the stairs. Cooper followed at her heels, the two running downstairs at full speed.

Natasha smiled again; maybe this wouldn't be as one sided as she'd originally thought. She was surrounded by people she loved and people who loved her back. Despite the blood coating her hands, she had a son. She had a piece of her husband that would always be with her.

The past was dark and bleak and painful, but perhaps the future held more light for her than she'd originally thought. They were beginning anew, she and her son.

Winter had come and gone, and it was spring time. It was time to let go of what had happened and move on. She would never forget him, the love of her life. She would never forget the way his eyes sparkled or how he was ready to give everything away to save the ones he loved. She would never forget the first moments of holding her son, or the moments of joy at discovering that she and her husband were starting a family.

But she would also never forget the moment she realized that she was on the wrong side. She would never forget the look of her husband's eyes before they closed for the last time, or the last weak squeeze he gave before his arm went limp.

All of these moments, some joyful and some sorrowful, no matter how painful, had all shaped the path for her. They defined her, yes, and there were many people who still hated her for her past deeds. But they couldn't hold her back anymore.

The Civil War, the heartbreak, the death, the Avengers – it was all passed. There was no changing it. There was no going back.

There was only moving forward, one painful or joyful step at a time.

* * *

Thousands of miles away, in a hospital in New York, Pepper Potts held her daughter in her arms for the first time. She was alone . . .

* * *

 **And I think I'm just gonna leave it there :) I'm not sure though, this fic is REALLY growing on me. I'm expanding on it in my free time . . . But I have a lot on my plate, so we'll see how far any of them get XD**

 **A TON of people were asking for a sequel, so here it is! It's dedicated to you, darlings :) You're all so sweet and make my day every time I see a notification for a review. I'm glad you all enjoyed it so much as to request a follow up!**

 **And this concludes the Little One series for now, though I have a few more ideas floating around . . . I don't know though. We'll just have to wait and see.**

 **Thank you all so much for reading! I'd like to see what you think, if you don't mind dropping a review by! Thanks again :3**


	3. New Tide

**And I'm back, due to popular demand XD You guys are super insistent, so I'm here to say this is going to become multichap. Hope the wait was worth it. :) Updates will be pretty infrequent, but I feel like it will give me a chance to collect my thoughts and put out as good quality of writing as possible.**

 **Good soundtrack is** ** _Already Gone_** **by Sleeping At Last. It's a cover of the same song by Kelly Clarkson, but it's really pretty. . .**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The days grew warmer as the sun grew brighter, beckoning summer into the Barton's Iowa farmhouse.

From the day Natasha had come home from the hospital on, everything had fallen into a comfortable routine. Now, two months later, nothing much had changed.

Steven was growing steadily, all at a slightly above average pace according to ex-SHIELD nurse Laura. He was turning into the very image of his father with his feathery blond mop of hair and his sky-blue eyes.

Sometimes it hurt to look at him, other times it was mother's pride. All the same, Natasha thanked whatever weakness in her heart it was that had forced her to keep him. Despite the loss of her husband, she still had a piece of him with her. Forever.

Life was moving forward, everyday taking them one more step away from the dark past and towards what was meant to be theirs.

Shame the past had to haunt them.

* * *

"I still don't get it," Natasha muttered, fingering the paper streamers. "Why do we have to do all of this?"

"Because he's going to taste his first real food!" Lila chirped, wrapping the brightly colored strips around a table leg. "We had to do this for Nate. It makes them feel special,"

Natasha shrugged, passing the girl a strip of tape. "If you say so,"

Apparently, it was Barton family tradition to make a big deal out of baby's first taste of rice. Steven - though not having hit the three month mark yet - was ready for his try at it, and Lila had been loath to exempt him from the tradition.

As if recognizing his name, Steven gurgled happily from his high chair. Natasha looked up to see him toying lightly with a rattle.

"I don't know, Li," Natasha grinned. "With the attention he's been getting, I think he's already feeling pretty special."

Lila huffed dramatically, having inherited her father's love of flair. "Daddy," she called, seeing him stride into the kitchen. "Tell Auntie Nat why this is so important!"

Clint shot her a shaky smile. "Maybe in a bit, peanut. Right now," he settled his gaze heavily on Natasha. "I think Nat and I have to have a chat. Watch Cap for a moment, 'kay?"

Natasha, already having stood from her kneeling position at Clint's words, nodded. "He's right. Just watch Steven for a second. We'll finish when I get back."

The pair headed out of the farmhouse, Natasha watching the archer carefully. His body language was tense, but not that of a man anticipating combat. No, it seemed more emotionally tethered if anything.

"What's wrong?" She asked once they were out of earshot. "Is it Tony?"

"No," he said, sighing as they reached the barn. "It's . . . Just see for yourself, Nat,"

She blinked at him for another moment, attempting to read him. But his game face had slid into place, and even after a decade of partnership, she was no better at cracking it than day one. With a slight downturn of her lip, she pushed the barn doors open.

A cloud of dust sprayed off the hinges, catching the sunlight for a moment before dissipating. In the dim light of the barn, Natasha was able to make out a flash of metal. Gun.

In a split second, her own pistol was out and aimed directly at the thin glint of light. Vaguely, she registered Clint's warnings. But there was no time before a burst of red light hit her, sending her careening backwards.

Her shoulders hit the dirt first, followed by the rest of her body before her head landed with a dull _thunk_. Her gun clattered in a patch of weeds to her right.

She let out a hiss between her teeth as she attempted to roll over, only to be stopped as strong arms lifted her into a sitting position. Natasha blinked up at the figure blearily, making out a jolt of bright blue eyes and lightly stubbled cheeks.

For a fleeting instant it was her husband having returned home, but then the world came back down to her focus. The metal hadn't been a gun.

James Barnes kneeled next to her in the dirt, supporting her lightly. A smirk appeared once he saw she was no worse for the wear. " _You're getting rusty, Natalia_ ," he drawled out in Russian, still as flawless as years ago.

She narrowed her eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He shrugged, standing and stepping back as Clint and a girl ran to her side.

Clint helped her stand, giving her a small mock of disapproval. "I told you not to panic."

Natasha leveled a glare at him. "Shut up, Barton. You could have told me."

He mockingly huffed, but the assassin chose to ignore him further as she turned to the second newcomer. Bright gray eyes peeked out from behind a straight curtain of dark hair. Natasha allowed a small smile.

"Wanda," she nodded, taking in the clothes that plainly stated she had been laying low. "Good to see you again."

The girl grinned at her. "Same, Natasha. It's been awhile since . . ." She trailed off, looking mildly perturbed before shaking the feeling. "It's nice to see you healthy,"

Natasha gave one last small smile before shaking the leaf debris out of her curls. Clint caught her eye, and she nodded.

"So, here she is," he spoke up to James, stashing his hands back in his pockets. "Care to tell us what's up?"

The soldier nodded, looking deep in thought. "It's a bit of a long one,"

Natasha let out a small snort, which caused Wanda to watch her carefully. She shrugged at the girl whom was still obviously unaware of who was in the house waiting. "I'd have to say the same. Care to come in? Clint actually helped clean the kitchen today. It looks nice."

The archer glared at her. "Just cause Laura's out of town doesn't mean we have to live like heathens."

The four headed back towards the porch, Natasha whispering offhand to Wanda: "He's like a soccer mom when the wife's away."

Wanda smirked as Clint scoffed. "I could still kick you out, remember."

Natasha tilted her head. "Yeah, but you won't,"

Clint sputtered for a reply for a moment before sighing. "I've got no comeback,"

Even James - Bucky, she reminded herself - cracked a small smile at that.

Natasha watched him carefully, from the state of his clothes to his stride. He still looked like the lost man that had trained her so long ago.

Albeit, his appearance was still just the slightest bit wild and untamed. His hair was trimmed to a more respectable length, his faint shadow of stubble a bit more orderly. Even his clothing was more reminiscent of modern times.

Wanda walked closely with him. Natasha narrowed her eyes slightly as she watched them. She didn't miss the way his lips quirked up at her proximity, or the way his metallic arm gently brushed against her hand. And she was just the slightest bit taken aback when Wanda turned her palm to slip into his.

Natasha just smiled to herself. It was nice to see something going right for someone, especially only a year after the war. To find solace in someone just as broken and in pain as yourself . . . It was a beautiful thing. To find healing together, just as she once had with Steve.

The smile dipped from her cheeks just as quickly as it had come. It still hurt; a part of herself knew very well that it always would. One simply couldn't get over the loss of the only person who both healed and broke her heart all at once.

Seeing James - _Bucky_ \- again . . . It reopened old wounds. Steve hadn't been the first man to capture her heart. She had of course had other interests before. It was simply Steve who really understood and completed her. Who knew what it was like to wake up everyday and not know if it was worth it to keep going. Who knew what it was like to be lost in the world.

James was the first. They had been children back then, really . . . Not the hardened adults they were now. He was a man out of time, only physically the same as her. And she, a broken nineteen year old experiment. They had each other through the long, dark Russian winters. He would hold her as the haunted look in her eyes faded from the day's events. She would hold his hand as his body was wracked by nightmares.

It never could have lasted. She knew that now, looking at the lightness of his step as he held Wanda's dainty hand in his metal one. Each in their own way had found happiness, even if Natasha had to give up her husband in the end. But even then, she was rewarded with a son. Everything smoothed out eventually. They had each other, and she her baby boy.

Her trance was broken as they entered the farmhouse, a baby's cries echoing down the hallway. She sighed, brushing past the trio of ex-Avengers.

Lila, eyes wide as she tried to quiet Steven, was perched on a stool by his high chair. The infant wanted none of her excuses, cheeks red from his wailing. He didn't cry often, but when he did it was typically something to do with boredom.

"He just started crying!" Lila exclaimed, clambering down from her stool. "I told him he was gonna wake Nate, but he doesn't like to listen."

Natasha grinned as he promptly stopped crying when she perched him on her hip. "It's alright, Li. He can be fussy when there's nothing to look at."

Steven crooned and grabbed at his mother's hair, pulling at the red locks excitedly. Natasha shot him a mock glare. "All of that just so you can pull my hair?" He grinned toothlessly at her, still tugging at her curls.

A cough sounded from behind the small family. Natasha swiveled to find Wanda wide eyed and James equally surprised, though he was better at concealing it. Clint just watched the two smugly.

Wanda broke the silence first, taking a few slow steps forward first. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but she was clearly fighting not to burst into questions.

"He's yours," it was more a statement than a question, one which she already knew the answer to. Natasha watched her carefully as she brushed a finger over his curls, the smile winning out over her determination. "And Captain Rogers,"

Natasha nodded once. "Yeah, it's . . . A long story,"

Wanda watched him for a moment more before looking up at Natasha. "May I hold him?"

The assassin didn't reply, instead handing the two-month-old to the girl. Wanda settled him on her hip with surprising ease, bumping him lightly up and down. Steven gave another toothless grin and gurgled.

"Hello, little one," she whispered, accent heavy as ever, turning to the soldier. Bucky stood there, watching in a bit of a dumbfounded fashion. "Come here, James. He's just a little darling, isn't he?"

He approached hesitantly, eyes still transfixed on the child of his best friend. Steven left Wanda's focus and stared at the man with the big metal arm and deep eyes.

James eyed him a bit wearily, but the amount of hesitance in his expression nearly made Natasha grin again. This man had faced down assassins, gods, kings and most of the U.S. Government, yet was out of his depth at a small child.

Wanda shot him a knowing smile, gently using her free hand to take his human one and guide it to Steven's little back. James carefully rubbed the boy, jumping a bit when he twisted to study him with those bright colored eyes.

Steven watched him for a moment, as if trying to gauge him. But then he swung his little arm out, catching the super soldier by surprise as he wrapped his fist around one of his fingers. His grip was iron, James soon found as he attempted to pull his hand away. The baby stared innocently at him, wondering what his problem was.

Wanda let out a quiet laugh, looking back and forth between the soldier and the baby. Gradually, the man's expression softened. A small smile crept across his face, but Natasha could make out the pain beneath.

"Looks like Steve," he whispered, gently stroking a thumb over the blond mop of hair.

Natasha swallowed hard, looking away. Even having put his death in the past, it would always hurt. Steven, no matter the love and peace he brought her, would always be a reminder of who was missing from them both.

She cleared her throat, catching the attention of everyone in the room. Wanda continued bouncing Steven on her hip, his hand still firmly wrapped around James' finger.

"I don't mean to ruin the moment, but why are you here?" She asked, voice so serious that Lila cast one last glance at her father before scampering off. "It's not just a social visit, I mean,"

Wanda nodded, handing Steven to a wide eyed James. The soldier tried to resist, but at Steven's big eyes and smile, he gave in. The baby happily banged his fist lightly on the metal of his arm.

"It's SHIELD," Wanda started, taking the seat Clint offered. "A man - Coulson - recruited James and I after the war. They're picking up powered individuals from around the globe."

Clint's eyes were bulging. "Coulson? As in . . . Coulson, Coulson?"

Wanda raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, Director Coulson. It's not that hard to say, and English isn't my first language."

"No, it's not that," Natasha cut in. "Coulson was dead before the Battle of New York. Killed by Loki,"

Wanda scrunched her brow. "He seemed fine. Are you sure you are not mistaken?"

Clint let out a low growl. "Phil, you son of a-"

"Language," James barked, nodding towards Steven.

Clint shot the man a look. "Really?"

"Just practicing," the soldier threw Wanda a smirk. The girl reddened in turn.

"Anyway, moving on. SHIELD is picking up powered people for what, exactly?"

"War," Wanda shrugged. "There's something coming. We've been feeling it for a while . . . Something's not right,"

Natasha nodded, knowing the feeling. "Alright, I get that. But why did you come for us? If you're looking for supernatural, you've got the wrong Avengers,"

"No," Wanda insisted. "SHIELD's not the only organization looking for powers. There are others, some worse than HYDRA. Coulson sent us to find you before they do."

"So let me get this straight," Clint was skeptical. "You came to warn the normal people of people looking for super people," his nose scrunched up. "Wait, Nat - check my math,"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Really, though. Why us?"

"Because of him," James leveled his gaze to Steven. "They're looking for people to work with, tamper with. Trying to recreate Erskine's serum,"

"But no one even knows he exists," Natasha retorted, not liking where this was headed. "Well, aside from Coulson, apparently."

"He didn't tell us either," Wanda soothed. "He told us we'd know it when we see it. Said there were too many higher-ups around to give a full briefing." She rolled her gray eyes. "I hate politics,"

"So, to summarize," Clint chirped with false delight. "SHIELD wants Steven because there are others looking for him. Said others are worse than HYDRA, which sounds like a party to me. But that doesn't explain why you're walking free, buddy," he jabbed at James. "You've got the serum, too."

"Mine's incomplete. The kid, however . . . He has the best of two worlds. Red Room and Erskine's combined." James retorted quietly.

The room went silent, Natasha taking in the news with dread.

The one person she had left - the one person she swore to protect - was in danger. They were going to stop at nothing to get him, to work on him like an animal as they had done to her so long ago.

Her eyes landed on Steven, who had settled into a nap on James' shoulder. His throat bobbed quietly as he sucked on his thumb. He was so innocent, so young.

Steve, lying on his deathbed, had taken her hand and made her promise she would protect their unborn son or daughter with her life. Natasha hadn't been able to save him. She was too late. But looking at her son sleeping peacefully in a broken man's arms, she knew what had to be done. She had to take this second chance.

Natasha may not have been able to save her husband, but she could still save her son.

She swallowed tightly, meeting Wanda's eyes heavily. "What do I need to do?"

* * *

 **The support for this fic has been AMAZING. I love you all!**

 **So the prequel to this will be posted eventually, but I feel I've written myself into a hole on that one, so it might not be out for another few weeks. Or months. We'll see . . .**

 **But thanks for reading! Mind dropping by a review? ;)**


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